Remember who you are

With the advent of Facebook, we practically know what almost everybody is thinking. And where they’re going, what they did.

It’s almost the end of the year, so most postings are about homeward bound journeys. Promises of reunion, renewal of bonds, joys of friendship, wistful recountings of memories long past.

And then there’s the familiar grumble of the holidays not being long enough. I know how some people can be incredibly homesick when away for long, or how much they miss their friends. But I’ve of a mind that once you land on another piece of earth somewhere far, far, way, you’d feel homesick, of course, but won’t it be an avenue of open possibilities? That you’d be so busy discovering something new there that home is at the back of your mind?

Maybe I’m just a cold, selfish bastard.

I’m not one to feel homesick. When I get to fly back, I cherish every moment I am there. When I have to leave, a small feeling of regret nibbles my heart. But I know when I return to the place away from home, I’ll shift my focus back on what is there, not where I was before. I guess I settle much more easily than some.

It’s meaningful, and enlightening to look back upon one’s life and seeing how it has made you the person you are today. But some do it so excessively they forget to move on, and enter into a pit of brooding melancholy. You’d think if you can’t get friends in a new place, and I mean NONE at all, then there’s something wrong with you. But who am I to judge?

Of course there are those who descend into a downward spiral of drugs, clubbing and wrong friends. Most of us won’t even know it until they’ve returned, a new look and a totally 360 turn personality.

I say go out, experience and enjoy. Take no regrets. Destroy all stereotyping. Allow no prejudices.

Then come back, reminisce and renew yourself.

But leave a vestige of your true self inside, enough so you remember from whence you came.

Life is a vicious cycle

When I was in high school, I had a very high opinion of myself. I live in a whirlpool of irony. One one hand I had a low self esteem, on the other I believed in my superiority. I’m not saying everyone is stupid to me, but I secretly delighted myself with the fact that I knew a bit more than they do. I meant in general and my perspective on how I see things, not which neurotransmitter is produced by which gland.

I sneered at attempts to lead me, and silently decry those who tired to command me. With or without merit, I was a kiasu-case. But me being me, I usually kept quiet, for I am not one to start a conflict. But it was never a problem for me to seed doubt, because unlike now, back then most of them were pretty one-sided when it comes to events. Nowadays they already grew a brain. XD That or I found more skeptical and critical thinking friends.

In retrospect, I looked back at what I was a bit disappointingly. I failed to separate what was personal, and what was business. Maybe being adolescents are like that, where we thrive on drama headfirst without really thinking. Things between both sides of my life intermingled so confusingly in the end, ever business is personal. So the shit hits the fan. People we knew as friends become alienated, people take sides, sabotages, ill will and a generally toxic environment of hatred and false pretenses disguised as fun and friendship.

It might seem as though it happened all those years back, but reading it again reminds of happenings in college, of which I am no longer part of. I still keep in contact with those who chose to continue their studies, so I hear lots of stories. Somehow it echoes back to the same thing that happened.

I guess life is a vicious cycle.

To just live

Dan rasakan semua bintang
Memanggil tawamu terbang ke atas
Tinggalkan semua, hanya kita dan bintang

~ Aku dan bintang – Peterpan

The whole world consists of just you, and itself. It’s the proverbial moment when amidst all the flurry of activities and craziness of life, nothing but you and the world exists. It can be anything, you and the earth, you and the beach, you and a loved one. The world is something that means the most, a source of refuge and strength when thing seem bleak.

Some devote themselves to religion, some to material things, others to relationships with their fellow man. It’s the faith that against all odds, you still believe that there is something out there, anchoring you to life. A hair’s breadth away from slitting your wrist, but the thoughts fall loosely away like falling leaves in the rain.

Doesn’t matter if it’s money or power or glory. It’s still something borne of the determination to continue our lives and the hope to see our aspirations come alive before we breathe our last. For better or worse, people are here to stay.

I don’t know what gives me the power to live on. Maybe it’s to see how I’ll turn out, whether my dreams will come true, watch the stars with a loved one as our laughter echoes through the night.

Or maybe it’s nothing but the simple reason to just live.

Nankurunaisa

I look out the bus window to see the overcast skies. By the time I stepped off the bus, it was drizzling lightly. The wind blew a sharp, cold gust, swirling the air around me with fresh, moist air. A few minutes later, the drizzling became a downpour. I look out from beneath the KTM station’s roof, seeing people running for cover, some quickly brandishing their umbrellas to fend off the rain.

The house wasn’t too far. I took a step out of the station, into the rain. Within seconds I was drenched. I held my head up high, staring ahead of me as the water blurred my glasses, the water dripping from my greasy hair into my eyes. It felt cold, quiet, but oddly refreshing. People looked at me as I walked unhurriedly in the rain, those seeking shelter beneath those huge stall umbrellas eyeing me curiously. I relished the feeling of water falling on my face, short stinging smacks with a cool aftertaste.

In that moment, from the moment I entered the rain till I reached home, I forgot all else. It was just me and the rain. The sound of water falling onto the roads, the rustling whisper of the cold wind, the shirt sticking to my back and the shudder than ran through me every time the wind blew my way. The sounds of the daily grind seemed to fade away, muffled by the sounds of the rain.

The nagging  feeling of discontentment, frustration, doubt, disappointment that’s been hovering around me became silenced. Just for that moment.

Disappointment with what I’ve been, what I am, and fears of what I will be. Sometimes, in the long run of things, the good memories don’t come so easily anymore. It’s the disappointments and failures that never fades, a constant nagging reminders of what ifs and maybes.

The desire to jump out of the monotonous routine, do something really spontaneously until reality sinks in. I haven’t found what I really want in life. Most of it are just assumptions to what will make me happy. So I fear. Fear that the choices I make will just disappoint me more. And then how much more before those around me spell failure in their eyes every time I look into it?

No one can truly understand your inner turmoil like yourself. For each and everyone’s personal demons are unique, tailored to the individuals fears and aspirations. No matter how much I tell others about it, it soothes me for a bit. But it won’t solve anything. because trying to paint your soul for others to see is impossible. If everyone could do that, there won’t be misunderstandings and strife in this world.

So I try to forget what was. As for spontaneity and change, I tread cautiously. Because I believe everything will be alright in the end. Because no one understands their own world like they themselves do. When the time is right, things will go the way we want it to be.

Nankurunaisa – (Okinawan dialect) It will be alright.

Malay and Muslim

Will these people understand us? Will they understand how people like me appreciate the faith? Bukan abang nak style Taliban. Last week, I had this white guy, a professor, in my cab. He could speak Malay, in Kelantanese! He kept asking me everything about being Malay. Why we abolished Mak Yong? Is the Islam practised now the same as our ancestors? He asked why during the tsunami tragedy, all we Malaysians did was to pose for pictures, holding fat mock-up cheques? He said true charity was not about photo opportunities.

I questioned myself after that: what kind of Malay and Muslim am I?

~ I am Muslim – Dina Zaman

Firsts

They say the first time usually sucks.

I think it’s overrated.

Is just a choice

To make a mountain of your life
Is just a choice
But I never learned enough
To listen to the voice that told me
Always love, hate will get you every time

Always love, don’t wait til the finish line
Slow demands come ’round
Squeeze the air and keep the rest out
It helps to write it down
Even when you then cross it out

But always love, hate will get you every time
Always love even when you wanna fight

Self-directed lives
I want to know what it’d be like to
Aim so high above
Any card that you get dealt you….

~ Always Love – Nada Surf

When’s the future?

Routine is boring.

It becomes so mundane and dreary, you start to wonder, is this all there is to life?

Not many can afford the Yes-Man method of doing things. Not everyone has the money. Let’s face it, even if people say money isn’t everything, how many really believe that? Maybe if we live in an earlier era, where having your own farm, growing your own food and living with a tight community is a part of life.

Now individualism is important. Freedom of expression. Following the mainstream flow is rubbish. Along the way, we lose what it’s like to live without the non-essentials we live with now.

Maybe solitude can be a good thing. Reevaluate my values and principals. Away from it all. To do something that matters, that changes the world. Not stuck in the daily grind, banking on it for a better future.

Because by the time its “future”, it might be too late.

Hear the cold silence?

We always try to see past the mistakes our friends make. Being a friend entitles one to be ignorant of certain transgressions that has been committed. Even if it means being a miserable bitch. A storm begins, cold wars erupt, ties become muted.

Then one day, things return to normal again. No forgiveness, no apologies. Just a hastily buried hatchet within sight, easy to unearth at any time. When things come to a head one day, and the cold wars erupt into all-out battle, all hatchets will be unearthed, and people will get hurt.

I’ve seen how this volatile thing called friendship, even after ten years and many ties that bind, can easily crumble to dust at the most trivial thing. We try to look past mistakes as a good friend, and offer advice. We look away when things get ugly, bitching behind the walls. Then somehow expect the silence that lay can be lifted by the dawn of a new day, forgotten among the piles of repressed emotions and pretentious facade.

I guess we value our friendship too much to risk destroying it by telling the truth. We fear that a confrontation will destroy the very foundation our friendship is based on, considering that truth is a matter of perspective. Hopefully telling ourselves that one day things will be better, and it’s nothing to fuss about. A snowflake is as light as air, but when it comes tumbling down in an avalanche, it could snuff the life out of you.

I hear it, feel it, seen it happen, time and again. The small, trivial problems that are harmless on their own, but collectively being the equivalent of a mental time bomb.

One side might be so clueless to what’s happening. And telling that one side as a third party will just backfire as the spittle fly back and forth.

So I refuse to really believe what one side is saying until I hear the other side, for one perceives the world as heaven and the other hell.

So it’s a matter of personal judgement to see how much we can take, or should take, before we break all bonds.

Because a true friend will not want to see you suffer.

Know your nicoise

Always be prepared. And so far two interviews later, I still suck at them, and always, always go in unprepared when it comes to food knowledge.

Interviewer: So what kinds of salads do you know how to make?

Me: Caesar salad.

I: Ok. So what’s inside?

M: Lettuce, tomatoes, hard boiled eggs.. uhm..

I: Uh huh. Ok.

M: Anchovies, black olives.. *panicking*

I: That’s not Caesar.

M: Huh?

I: That’s nicoise.

KANTOI!!!!!!!